


the tale of the marble dragon

by sciencemyfiction



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Gen, KuroFai Gift Exchange, M/M, and some humor! I hope you like humor mixed with serious, and subtle kurofai sappy romance stuff, episodic story about the team post-end, just enough to let Kurogane solve a mystery, no other bad I promise, oh yes and some emotional found family support, so get ready for some lighter-than-canon-typical violence, which needs to be specified of course given the source
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-10 02:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17417516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencemyfiction/pseuds/sciencemyfiction
Summary: For the kurofai community's holiday exchange! This is a gift for Mythicalheartbeat.Keywords: Festival, Dragon, FireworksWhen the travelers arrive in a place called Gunpowder Country, they discover that they are in the midst of a festival celebrating truthfulness. All does not quite seem as it should, so they investigate, and find a little mystery in town.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mythicalheartbeat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicalheartbeat/gifts).



The travelers appeared outside of town in the middle of the week on an otherwise ordinary day. No one could have said if they came from the west or the east, or which roads they’d walked before. They walked in pairs: a man like a slender golden sword with his iron counterpart; a boy who carried hope and sorrow on his back, and the curious creature who rode on his shoulder. They walked close together, talking softly among themselves, and so many travelers had already arrived in anticipation of the festival that, for the most part, these four went unnoticed.

***

“My! This country really is prosperous, don’t you think?”

“Oh! Yes, I’ve just arrived, actually. It’s Gunpowder Country, you said?”

“Hahah! Why, your accent is so gentle! Where ever did you come from, young Lord?”

Kurogane made a sound in the back of his throat, his attention split between Fai and Syaoran. The former was staying close, but the latter kept wandering distractedly about, which did nothing good for Kurogane’s mood. Syaoran was excitedly talking to everyone who’d give him the time of day to learn more of this country, and Fai seemed enchanted by so many colorful decorations and artisan’s work hung about the bazaar. One of them was almost certainly going to get into trouble soon.

Mokona, for whatever reason, was riding on Kurogane’s head. Kurogane was resigned to the fact that she intended to stay there.

“Far from here, I’m afraid, and a long time since I was home,” Syaoran told the elderly women, stepping closer to the water pump where they’d been filling jugs and gossiping. “Ah, but I am happy to be here! It seems like there’s occasion for celebration, today.”

“Indeed! You’re just in time to join us all for the Festival of Truth!”

Fai paused in his perusal of a gem-carver’s stall, and glanced back over his shoulder, meeting Kurogane’s eyes.

“The Festival of Truth? Could you tell me more about it?” Syaoran asked, playing his part as precocious youth while the others listened in. With the air so full of chatter and the smells of food, animals and fresh cut lumber, it was a little more challenging than usual.

“It’s a month where we give gratitude to the spirits of Truth whose magics shielded our country from the Empire, over one hundred years ago. Back then, _Pyrítida_ had been unconnected to the rest of the world for a long time, and no one knew what to do about these warriors who suddenly showed up!”

Fai hummed tunelessly, walking to the next stall in the row. He crouched down to marvel at their finely hammered, clockwork mechanical tools. Kurogane lingered by the gem-carver's stall, one ear on Syaoran’s conversation, and made a show of browsing the display as he stood there. Most of the shops in this bazaar were selling food, tools or clothing, all appropriate to whatever this ‘Truth’ celebration was; but this one held gleaming treasures carved in the shapes of various animals, weapons, and even a person or two. Kurogane noted a sapphire-eyed dragon amidst the rest, carved from a block of marble, and lamented that he couldn't read the price tag.

“Isn’t that like what happened in Clow? To be ‘unconnected’ from the rest of the world?”

“It does seem similar,” Fai agreed in an undertone. “I wonder why that is.”

“You should ask someone.”

When Fai made no motion to drag himself away from the marvelous clockwork creations, Kurogane sighed through his nose and turned his attention to the gem-carver. She was a portly woman in the later part of her youth, rosy-cheeked and shrewd. It was mildly disconcerting to feel her watching him, but he was used to the mistrusting glares of merchants many worlds over. He cleared his throat, and addressed her directly.  

“Hey. This is for sale?”

“For the right price,” said the shopkeep. “But how do I know you have the money for it?”

At least she was direct. Kurogane scoffed to himself, tempted to drop the matter on principle. After all, if she judged him too poor to afford her trinketry, he didn't need the thing that bad. He’d have told her off and left it at that, but of course now Fai was watching him with one of those sly smiles, as if to say _really? You'll let that stand?_

Kurogane grit his teeth, and tried to keep his voice level.

“I have coin. For the right information and the right price, I’d like to buy this.”

Behind, he could hear Syaoran's conversation continuing uninterrupted. The elderly women were rambling on and on, now about the history of the festival, now about their favorite festival gowns, now various battles miraculously averted by the help of the truth spirits-- it all kept going so long his patience was starting to unravel.

Luckily, there was the matter of the shopkeep at hand to distract him.

“I take coins only if they’re made of copper or iron,” she said, not bothering to hide the suspicion in her voice. “You’re not from White Flower Country, are you?”

“Do I look like it?”

The shopkeep gave Kurogane a measuring look, from head to toe and back again.

“I suppose only the height. You and that gold one, there. You don’t look like the Empire’s soldiers at all, otherwise.”

Fai covered his face with one hand, smiling wryly and stifling a laugh. Kurogane ignored him, and tried to guide the conversation back where he wanted it. 

“Coins made of copper and iron,” Kurogane repeated, sliding a hand to his hip, and the coin pouch there. “If that's what you want, I can give you some of those. I can trade, instead, if you don’t like my coin. Or, I can walk away.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” the shopkeep protested. Fai’s shoulders shook, but at least he had the grace to laugh silently. “What’ve you got to trade? I’d take equal weight of the dragon if you have furs as thick as the ones your tunics are made of. Hard to get good quality furs this time of year.”

Kurogane glanced up at Mokona.

“Hey, pork bun. We have a spare blanket still?”

“Mm-hmm! Mokona has just the thing. Coming up~!”

In a matter of minutes, Syaoran was (thankfully) jogging up to rejoin them, Kurogane had the dragon figurine in both hands, and they were one fur blanket poorer. Fai, of course, stood up and leaned into Kurogane like a stiff wind was going to knock him down if he didn’t get support, laughing all the while.

“You really make the most intense expression when you want something! I could watch you all day.”

Kurogane grumbled under his breath, and did not mention why he'd wanted the thing, lest Fai find that funny, too.

"I'm not doing this to entertain you, mage."

"Are you sure? I promise, I was very entertained."

"Yes. I'm sure."

Fai's laughter bubbled up again, and Kurogane felt keenly that it was his glower that was being laughed at now, which only made him glower more. He gave his best harrumph, and marched toward Syaoran. Fai trailed along beside him, grinning ear to ear.

"You're very shy, still, you know? It's okay to want something."

Implicit in those words was the gentle reminder that it was okay to want something for sentimental reasons, too. Kurogane huffed, not arguing but not answering, either. Fai wheedled one more time. 

"Putting that aside, may I see it?"

" _No._ "

“I think I found a place we can stay,” Syaoran said as he reached them, a little out of breath. Inevitably, Syaoran was drawn to the marble statuette, too, though his reaction was somewhat different from Fai's. “Oh, that’s perfect, Kurogane-san.”

“Eh?”

“Hm?” Fai looked at Syaoran, his teasing forgotten in lieu of a new curiosity.

“Huh? Oh-- uh, let me explain while we walk. They said the inn is on the far side of town.”

They fell into step, Kurogane to the left, Syaoran in the middle, and Fai to the right. Mokona hopped back down onto Syaoran’s shoulder, and rode with her ears trailing in some imaginary breeze, swaying to and fro. Syaoran looked at the street signs as they reached a crossroads, and took them east down a wider road than the one they'd come from.

"So, that carving is made with materials that the people here consider sacred. Marble, sapphire, and silver are all special materials, associated with the Spirits of Truth."

“That shopkeep didn't seem the type," Kurogane groused. "And she's the one who made this thing, anyway."

“I think it’s very nice,” Fai said, brightening. “It reminds me of your sword.”

“Hn. Well, there’s that.” That had not crossed his mind when he'd first seen the statuette, but it was true, to Kurogane's surprise. He'd only been drawn to the damn thing because of its sparkling blue eyes. 

“Because of those materials, it’s also a suitable speaking piece for the spirits of Truth,” Syaoran explained patiently. “As part of the festival, people perform a ritual using statuettes like that one to contact the spirits, and trade with them. I guess they value secrets like currency, and repay them in kind."

Relieved to have a diversion from the _why_ of his purchase, Kurogane listened intently, and didn't interrupt. Fai was quite insufferable enough as it was and admitting his feelings, even after all this time, was difficult for Kurogane. 

"You want to do the ritual with it?"

"Yes! Ah, that is, if it's okay with you, Kurogane-san."

Kurogane shrugged.

"Sure, I guess. It won't get broken, or anything, right?"

"It shouldn't change at all, no. As I understand it, the materials act as a stand-in for offerings of water, hospitality and good luck."

Fai nodded, saying "That makes sense". Emboldened, Syaoran continued on, his excitement starting to catch in his voice. 

"If we can do the ritual, I'd like to try! These spirits barter information, so they might have knowledge of other worlds, or even of my parents."

He faltered, and looked at them each in turn, apologetic. Though Syaoran rarely talked about it anymore, they knew well his heart's desire, and Kurogane understood the difference between one's own parents, and guardians who filled the empty space, when the real thing wasn't there anymore. He tousled Syaoran's hair in silent support, and Fai put a light hand to Syaoran's shoulder, and the tension passed.

"It would help the local celebration if we perform the ritual, too, so we won’t be inconveniencing anybody,” Syaoran added, much subdued.

“Ahh, that’s a relief. One does hate to be an inconvenience.”

Fai rolled his neck back until it cracked, adopting a lazier pose and keeping the same pace. Mokona, who had been sing-songing to herself and mostly ignoring their conversation, piped up suddenly.

“Right! We could get in big trouble with Kurogane!”

“Big trouble!” Fai agreed.

Without glancing at either of them, Kurogane stubbornly took the lead, asking Syaoran which way to the inn. He’d long since learned to ignore Fai and Mokona’s teasing. As far as he was concerned, Syaoran could wax philosophical all day about the ritual and be as inconvenient as he wanted; that wasn't so bad. But Mokona would have gone on for hours about how lovey-dovey it was to buy the statuette in the first place if she'd paid enough attention to notice the connection, and that would have been terrible. As for Fai...well. The truth might be said no more plainly than the flush on his face, but Kurogane was certain Fai could still tell. He always seemed to know.

***

In their room, it was surprisingly quiet. The low ceiling had rafters like a fish's spine, and the wooden walls had been polished so many times over that they were stained, dark and warm as a winter hearth. There was a screen that separated the kitchen from the sitting and sleeping portion of things, and in the center of it all was a low, driftwood table. Overall, it felt a lot more like the inside of a remote cabin than a cramped little cityside inn. They’d been met with rabid enthusiasm when the proprietors noticed their unusual clothing, and charged tourist prices for room and board. At this point, that sort of thing happened to them so often that they hadn't really noticed. It was a hassle to haggle, as often as not, and only Syaoran really enjoyed the endeavor. At the very least, the people running the inn were friendly and generous with the foodstuffs, so Kurogane didn’t especially mind the cost, anyway. 

Syaoran had claimed the table more or less immediately, and now had out parchment and a charcoal stick he’d traded for at the bazaar. He was thinking out loud and making notes, on what he'd learned so far and on the ritual they were about to perform. Meanwhile, Fai had taken their bounty of fresh produce and fish behind the screen, and begun cooking dinner with Mokona. This left Kurogane at loose ends, so he took up a position beside Syaoran on the floor. He set the dragon statuette on the table between them, a temporary paperweight for Syaoran's parchment pages. 

“No one has officially done the ritual for the last ten years,” Syaoran said, in a soft and serious voice. He tapped the unsharpened end of his charcoal against a note he'd made about the recent war. “I asked around some more, while you two arranged our lodgings. I think there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

“Isn’t there always?” Fai caroled from the other side of the screen.

Kurogane pushed one of the five ritual tokens Syaoran had prepared, careful only to touch its edge with the tip of his finger. It slid smooth as butter across half the table before Syaoran caught it, absentmindedly.

“Fai-san, did you notice the smell from the shield-magic?”

“It’s rotten,” Fai answered. “Like something stolen.”

"I thought so, too." 

It smelled sweet in the room, maybe from the oil rubbed into those well-worn walls, but Kurogane suspected this was one of those things he'd have needed magic of his own to understand. He grumbled, trying his damnedest not to be left behind by their conversation. 

“The shield is the thing the festival’s about, right?” When Syaoran nodded, Kurogane pressed further. “What could cause something like that to go bad?”

“I don’t know."

"You seem pretty sure it's not just neglect."

A grave expression passed over Syaoran's face, and he said, "I have a suspicion, but I can't say, yet.”

"D'you think those people were lying to you?" 

"No. Or, well, not intentionally, anyway?"

Syaoran shrugged a little, lost in thought and not really paying Kurogane his full attention. He kept drawing Watanuki's symbol in his notes. Kurogane wondered if, maybe, Syaoran was considering reaching out for some help on this one. He decided to make the suggestion indirectly, calling out to Mokona.

"Hey, pork-bun."

"It's not pork-bun! It's Mokona!"

"Maybe we should contact the black thing, and see if that kid has any ideas, over in his shop." 

"Watanuki is probably sleeping," Mokona speculated. There was a note of mischief to her voice, and Kurogane wondered if he'd missed some new prank between her and her counterpart. 

"How do you know he's sleeping right now? That one of your secret skills?"

"Weeeeellll~"

"You already checked with the black thing earlier, didn't you?"

"Setting that aside!" Mokona clapped her tiny paws together with a nearly inaudible _paff!_ "I bet we could learn a lot from performing the ceremonial ritual!"

Syaoran broke out of his reverie at that, nodding a little too fast and accidentally smudging his charcoal-coated hand over his cheek. 

"That's true! That's why I want to try it out. If these truth spirits can do what they're purported to do, they would be very helpful."

Sizzling oil popped loudly from the side room; the sudden, close, and powerful scent of frying, breaded vegetables filled the air. Fai had been suspiciously silent, but Kurogane chose not to point it out. He lifted his chin and caught Syaoran’s attention.

“All right. You need any help from me?”

“Yes! If you don’t mind, that is.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“It’s not much, but. Ah, that is, the spirits might manifest on your head or shoulders or something like that. Is that okay?”

"Mokona sits on Kurogane's head all the time!" Mokona laughed, and he shrugged. 

"I'll manage."

Syaoran set down his charcoal stick, and picked up the marble figurine, handing it gently, reverently, over to Kurogane. He accepted the thing, and then felt awkward, sitting there and holding it while Syaoran lined up each token on one of his left hand’s fingertips, and pressed his hands together over them.

“So, you just hold the statuette, there, and if it starts to get more malleable, just try not to crush it.”

Kurogane felt his own skeptical eyebrow rise, despite his best intention to remain calm about it all. Syaoran hastily tried to soothe any mistrust, hands still pressed together over the tokens.

“I’m sorry! I mean, the figurine will not be damaged, but its physical state might be a little altered while the spirits are present. Er, it’s hard to explain?”

Kurogane snorted softly, and shrugged his own misgivings away. 

“It's fine. Do the ritual, I’ll do my part.”

“And do try to finish up before dinner’s ready,” Fai chimed in, teasingly. “I’m almost done in here.”

Between the smell of the stew already cooking and the fried, breaded whatever-they-weres, Kurogane was glad to hear it. He was starting to hit that stage where his stomach felt like it was chewing on itself in irritation. 

Ignoring hunger had never been more than a minor concern for him, when he’d lived in Japan. It was a common problem of working as a guard, in fact, that Kurogane had not had time till far past ‘time’, most days, to go and eat a meal. Since he’d linked his life with Fai’s in the ruins of a place called ‘Tokyo’, though, Kurogane had found it nearly impossible to ignore his appetite.

Now was no exception. He hoped the truth spirits wouldn’t be too chatty.

Syaoran spoke the words he’d learned over the tokens, hands before his face like a prayer. It seemed to Kurogane that the incantation invoked goodwill and name-dropped someone, offering the spirits knowledge of a secret in return for their protection. Then there was something about asking to reaffirm the bond, make a trade, and learn the truth: Syaoran channeled a thread of his magic into the tokens, and they glittered and sparked, ready to discharge a shock to the first thing he touched.

He spread his palms, and reached out to touch the dragon figurine, and nothing happened.

Syaoran frowned, the crackle of his magic fading until only the soft hissing and popping of frying from behind the screen remained. Kurogane watched the dragon figurine, one hand around its neck and the other around its hind leg, just in case it came to life. It made no effort to struggle free or move, however, and seemed as inanimate and unresponsive as it had before. Fai called from behind the screen, tone light with curiosity.

“Did it work?”  

Syaoran looked up at Kurogane searchingly, and Kurogane shook his head, calling back:

“Don't think so. The magic just fizzled out.”

“It felt like knocking on the door of an empty home.” Syaoran said, distinctly more worried than he’d been before.  

The sizzling in the kitchen faded too, now. Kurogane was having trouble focusing on anything but the alluring smell of garlic and spice, and Syaoran seemed deep in thought. It was Fai who broke them out of their stupor, leaning out of the kitchen with a smile and wink for them both.

“Well, let’s have dinner before we tackle this, then. Everything’s ready, and as a bonus, Mokona got us something to drink from Watanuki’s shop.”

"Stole it~" Mokona agreed slyly, chuckling to herself. "Right out from under Watanunki's nose!"

Syaoran squawked in half-hearted protest, but Kurogane maintained a facade of indifference as best he could, trying to cover his amusement. It didn't work.

“Good. It better not be that tasteless stuff.”

***

Later in the night, with Syaoran asleep, Fai pressed close to his side and Mokona softly snoring, Kurogane whispered,

“Hey, mage. Are you hungry?”

For a little bit, Fai pretended he was asleep too. Kurogane waited, running his thumb across Fai's shoulder blades, back and forth. In the quiet, he angled his head up, so his chin would be out of the way.

Then there were soft, tickling lips on his throat, and a tongue, and shortly, sharp teeth, so sharp he nearly didn’t feel them tearing the skin. Fai kissed while he ate, and he only ever ate a little blood, these days. He put a hand on Kurogane’s chest, as well, his fingers spidered out and light as a feather, though it seemed he must surely have been bracing all his weight on that hand. Kurogane wrapped his arms tighter around Fai's shoulders, and closed his eyes.

Then Fai was done, and pressed a last kiss not to Kurogane’s jugular, but his cheek, and nestled into him, warm and yawning.

“Goodnight, Kuro-sama.”

Kurogane listened to Fai's breathing, was soothed by it, and said in return, _Goodnight._

***


	2. Chapter 2

Before they'd gone to sleep that first night, Fai remembers a whispered conversation between Syaoran and himself, while Kurogane and Mokona drank the dregs of the liquor. It went like this:

"I just don't understand why none of them spoke to us."

Fai said: "The magic we sense is stolen. Maybe they can't answer."

"Do you think they're being held prisoner?"

Fai said: "Maybe."

Syaoran was a scholar, like his father before him (which father, perhaps, might not have mattered quite so much), and he did not miss the narrowing of Fai's eyes, nor that hint of blood they both could smell in the magic suffusing the air.

"These townspeople- maybe not all of them know the truth, themselves. Do you think they may have been sacrificing the spirits, instead of treating with them, all this time?"

Fai said: "No; or you would have felt them come to you now, maybe killed one by accident."

Neither of them remarked on the fact that Fai would know, or that Fai, perhaps, had this knowledge from past personal experience. Both of them thought about it.

"Could it be sabotage? Maybe some of the townsfolk don't want the war to be over."

Fai said: "Maybe."

***

Underneath the festival excitement, the day to day business of living in Gunpowder Country still occupied her people. They had many duties, too many to ignore and not nearly enough hands available in the first place to do them; certainly they couldn't be bothered to stop their important work and talk about such a silly, embarrassing old custom. These people, the travelers questioned, with the cleverness of many years together and a deep understanding of city dwellers.

A black iron sword of a man and his golden counterpart took odd jobs everywhere they could find them, starting in the city center and working their way out, shaking hands, catching falling packages, helping to move heavy equipment and transport goods. While they worked, they asked for news, then hearsay, then gossip.

A magical creature, alongside the boy who carried hope and sorrow on his back, went to the library and volunteered the boy's services as a scribe. He said he would gladly do the work for half-pay, as he had a great curiosity of things and a fondness for the written word. Soon he found himself with a side room full of archival materials. He was told to copy them from the moldering old records to fresh, clean paper.

While he worked, he memorized information about the history of Gunpowder Country, looked through the city planning maps for all buildings that had such things available, and several times went to the window to gauge his current position. After each day of work he wandered to a new location before heading home, visiting various landmarks.

When they met up again each night they talked of what they'd found, and taught each other about the city.

***

"At first you might not think it's much of anything," Fai said. "But there are dozens of rumors cropping up around that fountain, and there are probably more we haven't heard yet."

"What kind of rumors?"

"People losing important items near there; lovers suddenly quarreling and leaving each other; some said food that passes that water goes rancid. More substantially, a few people mentioned accidents and injuries, twisted ankles and that sort of thing."

"Did they say if any accident there was fatal?"

"Oh no!" Mokona cried. "None of them _were_ fatal, right?!"

"Not yet, but who knows."

Kurogane scoffed, and popped open a bottle of the local malt liquor. Whatever grain they were using, they didn't use enough of it, and the grain didn't taste right fermented; but he didn't really have much other choice, since Watanuki had discovered the missing bottle but not the culprit ( _yet,_ anyway), and the other Mokona was unwilling to risk another theft. Nothing seemed to terrify that one more than the thought of getting caught and banished from the storeroom.

"Not yet, but this sort of thing gets worse before it gets better," Fai sighed, mouth an unhappy line and eyes unfocused.

Kurogane kicked him lightly under the table. When Fai looked Kurogane's way, more confused than annoyed, Kurogane passed the bottle to him. It might've been watered down piss, but it was better than nothing.

"Hey."

"Thanks," Fai said, and drank very deeply, without a single complaint.

"So, what do we do about it?"

Syaoran had brought home a book or two from his work, and insisted it wasn't theft because he fully intended to take them back. He was less worried about stealing from libraries than had been the other one, but there was certainly a shared thread there, right down to the panicked, sweaty look of guilt that crossed his face whenever he looked too long at his ill-gotten gains. He was looking at them now and frowning.

"I was hoping to find some kind of clue in a history of the fountain," Syaoran began, "but it doesn't seem to be very important to these people. I did find a footnote saying the artist who made it was better known for her architecture in the city center. Everything else she made was lost in a fire last century, and has been replaced. So, we can't even compare the work."

"That's no good!" Mokona cried, and leapt up onto Syaoran's head for emphasis. "That's terrible, even!"

"Well, it's not especially helpful, anyway," Syaoran admitted, hangdog and apologetic.

Kurogane tried to cheer him up, saying "It's fine. We'll just try again; you're still working there, after all."

"I know, but when the month ends, so will the festival. I don't know how to explain it but...I have this feeling as though we're almost out of time."

Each day they'd remained in this place, the sense of _foreboding_ hanging in the air had gotten worse. Even without magic of his own, Kurogane could sense the claustrophobic weight of it on him all the time. He could only assume the effect was just as uncomfortable, if not moreso, for the others.

"All right, so what do we do?"

"I still think we need to investigate the fountain, I'm just not certain what we're looking for, exactly."

Syaoran picked up one of the heavily marked books he'd been poring over the previous night, and flipped through it until he found a map of their intended target. He laid the book back down on the table between the three of them, and pointed out their current location, in relation to the fountain. Kurogane's dragon sculpture sat only inches away, staring icily down at the map as if in disgust at what it represented.

"That's across town from here," Kurogane complained. Mokona leapt onto the table, and made a great show of peering at the map as well.

"Mm, mm! It'll take ages for Mokona to walk there."

"Like you won't be riding on my head."

"Mokona would never presume!"

Fai set down the empty bottle, and spoke up.

"Could we go now?"

Syaoran looked surprised, then shrugged at Mokona, who reciprocated.

"I hadn't thought about it, but there's no real reason to wait. If we don't find anything, we can regroup tomorrow night."

Fai nodded and stood, and Kurogane followed him, as Syaoran closed up his book and joined them. Mokona was the last to move, and she leapt to Kurogane's shoulder with a protest that it had all been his idea. Kurogane scoffed, but didn't complain.

The fountain felt wrong when they found it, and in the pitch black of night it looked ominous, its waters still as death. Kurogane had the uneasy sensation of eyes watching him from the dark, and put a hand up to soothe Mokona as she announced shakily that she didn't like this place. Ahead, Fai and Syaoran had their heads together over Syaoran's compass, and talked in a low murmur about its erratic behavior. The needle was spinning, and Syaoran postulated that such behavior was entirely possible without any magical interference. Fai countered that in his experience, such things were common in the presence of malicious spirits, and they continued to speculate while Kurogane looked about and spotted, rather too suddenly for his taste- as though she had simply appeared out of thin air- the figure of a young girl, sitting on the far edge of the fountain.

"Hey."

Fai and Syaoran fell silent, looking first at Kurogane, then in the direction he was looking, though they didn't seem to see what he saw there. Mokona, too, wondered who he was talking to, and Kurogane grumbled under his breath, handing Mokona over to Fai for safe-keeping.

"There's a kid there," he said.

"Not to us."

"Yeah." Kurogane shrugged. "Should I check it out?"

"I don't like it."

"You could get hurt, Kurogane-san."

He shrugged again, a little more irritably, but he didn't start walking over to the spirit until Fai said, _all right, we'll be waiting._

The little girl perched on the fountain's lip was pale with death, and had long black hair in two plaits. Her red eyes reminded Kurogane of himself, and she watched him approach with curiosity writ on her face.

" _Why are you here?_ " asked the girl. " _You know what I am._ "

"Well, you're not making people get hurt, are you?"

" _No._ "

"Have you seen who is?"

" _Yes._ "

Kurogane nodded, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, that's why I'm here: to stop that person."

He didn't ask her if she could show him the way to the person in question, but she stood from the fountain and approached him, until she was close enough that Kurogane could see the deep cut across her neck.

"Did they hurt you, too?"

" _Yes. Me, and a bunch of other kids. But I was the first._ "

Then she reached out to Kurogane, and dropped a sapphire into his hand. The moment it touched his palm, she disappeared from his sight, smiling as she faded away.

***

As it turned out, the sapphire fit precisely into the dragon's claws, and when it was slotted in, it caused a button to be depressed. This opened a compartment on the dragon's back, which held a small key and an old flyer, advertising a traveling troupe that had performed twenty years prior, in a theater near the center of town. They talked amongst themselves, and decided to travel to the theater the following night, lest their key allow them entry into places where they might be considered suspicious. It was a little after dawn, then, when they all turned in, and close to sunset when they woke and went to investigate their clue.

Walking there, Fai leaned in to Kurogane, and told him _thank you._

Kurogane touched the golden trailing tail of Fai's hair, and said nothing, but Fai understood that sometimes Kurogane didn't have the words for what he meant to say.

The theater was a musty building, newer than those that surrounded it and painted in bright stripes of yellow, red and green. It looked underwhelming, shorter than its neighbors and, at the moment, not very busy. That worked to their advantage, though: no one was around guarding the place, nor noticed them as they slipped in through a side-door and scoped out the inside.

Syaoran and Mokona went to the right, and Kurogane and Fai to the left, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

In the shadows backstage, Fai spoke up, though he kept his back to Kurogane.

"What did she look like, anyway? The child whose ghost you saw?"

Kurogane thought about it, and said,

"She had eyes and hair like me. Why?"

"Did you see any sign of how she died?"

Kurogane narrowed his eyes.

"Why?"

"It's here!" Mokona cried, from further to the back of the building, interrupting them. Kurogane grit his teeth, as Mokona called out again to _hurry up_ , despite all previous requests that she keep quiet. Never mind that they were skulking about where they didn't belong! Just faintly, he could hear Syaoran awkwardly trying to shush her, without success. After the third, loud shout from Mokona, Fai called back cheerfully, and sauntered off to join them.

Kurogane tried not to be miffed by his companions' lack of subtlety. He didn't forget the conversation they'd been having, either, but figured Fai would pick it back up later.

Syaoran and Mokona were standing at a door that looked a little too small, along the back wall of the building. It seemed like an odd place for a door, with a window right next to it. The window seemed to look out on a dimly lit alley. Even so, Kurogane was skeptical.

"What is it?"

"It's a door!" Mokona answered proudly.

"Yeah, I see that it's a door, I meant _where_ does it _lead_?"

"Mokona doesn't know!"

Kurogane grabbed Mokona in one hand, and scowled at her while she laughed in delight. Beyond them, Syaoran was turning the key. Above him, Fai leaned in to look as the door swung open.

For the first instant, it was only a door, and the room it led to looked dark and smelled clammy and rough, like stone soaked in brine. Then magic flared around the doorframe, twisting the space around them, and suddenly both Syaoran and Fai disappeared, as did the key and the door.

Kurogane stared wide-eyed at the now-featureless wall, while Mokona yelped urgently _mekyo!_

"Where did they—?! What just happened?"

Ignoring the boiling rage that was starting to stir in Kurogane's eyes, Mokona hopped up onto his head. This was an ill-advised decision, as Kurogane's go-to response to panic was generally anger and violence, and Mokona was already a convenient target. She complained bravely,

"Didn't you hear? Mokona went _mekyo!_ "

Kurogane caught up to the rest of what had just happened, and roared at Mokona,

"Bullshit! How can you be sensing something like that when we're nowhere near the princess?!"

Then, as if enough strange things hadn't already happened, a voice called out in answer.

" _Kurogane-san?_ Is that you?"

Mokona and Kurogane traded curious looks, and retraced their steps to the backstage, where they found themselves suddenly and inexplicably face to face with an all-too-familiar person. She looked almost exactly like Sakura, though her clothing matched the local style. She didn't seem to notice Mokona, though, and when she recognized Kurogane, she launched into an excited diatribe before he could even get a word in edgewise.

"Oh! It _is_ you! I thought you weren't going to be back for another month and everything's been terrible without you here to keep things in line and the playwright went missing and the festival's been a dis _aster_ and oh, please! I just _have_ to learn how to fight like you do! I know it's not right to fight for real when I'm performing, but I just think it would help me understand the choreography so much better if I understood what it was based on. So, please! Please, teach me how to fight, Kurogane-san! I know you said no already, but-!"

Kurogane, faced with this other-world Sakura's earnesty, tried his damnedest to turn her down. What he meant to say was, _absolutely not. Go home._

But in his worry for his missing companions, his shock at seeing her, and his unease at the thought of meeting another version of _himself_ , what actually came out was:

"You know what, fine, but we need to get out of here. Come on."

***


	3. Chapter 3

The inn room was not particularly more conducive to gathering his thoughts than had been the backstage area in the theater.  

Everything had a disturbingly empty sensation. Mokona and Sakura were talking in the background, but Kurogane felt keenly aware of the absence of Fai's voice. Kurogane had gone behind the screen to make food, claiming they'd think better on a full stomach. The trouble was, Syaoran wasn't here to help pull out the dishes and season the salmon. It was luck, mostly, that they had fresh fish on hand, because Kurogane wasn't comfortable making the sort of stuff Fai usually put together for them. That meant no bread, though he was decent enough at cooking rice not to burn it, at least. The kitchen area was spacious, but he was used to sharing that space with two other people at any given moment, and felt like he was dodging shadows, making room for those not present.

It crept up the back of Kurogane's neck, that feeling of absence. It made his ears ring.

Kurogane returned to the table with a plate of grilled salmon and a bowl of rice.

"Anyway, so that's why he looks just like your Kurogane!" Mokona was saying. He grunted in agreement, and sat down opposite the pair of them.

"Oh, I see!"

She definitely had the same soul. Not least because Mokona had sensed it, of course, but she acted the same. It didn't change the odd feeling he had of being out of place, seeing her here and knowing she wasn't the one they'd been missing back in Clow Country all this time. But it did something. The ringing was quieter.

"More importantly, those two are missing now," Kurogane said, passing her one of the smaller plates he'd brought for them to eat from. He gave an extra-small plate to Mokona, and waited to serve himself till both of them had gotten their fill.

"Those two?" Sakura repeated, confusion in her voice.

"Yeah yeah! We were at the theater with Fai and Syaoran! They opened the door we found with the secret key and it disappeared! And they did too!"

Kurogane didn't especially like the mental image of that memory, but he put it aside. Even if they were very different now than when he'd paid for Fai's life, those years before, he knew he'd know if Fai passed on. They were linked; and the other end of that link was still there, so he couldn't afford to panic. Maybe there'd be time for that once things were fixed, he wasn't sure.

Sakura, meanwhile, had frozen mid-bite and was now looking a peculiar shade of sweaty and pale.

"D-do you mean they f-f-found a...a _ghost door??_ "

Before Kurogane could intervene, Mokona had already nodded.

"Yep!"

Sakura swallowed her bite of salmon, took a shaky sip of water, and made a terrified sound somewhere between a piteous whine and a sob of unmitigated fear. Same soul, same fears, and no excuse- Mokona definitely was aware of Sakura's longstanding terror regarding the departed spirits of others. This could have been avoided. Kurogane glared daggers at Mokona, who shrugged un-apologetically.

"You're thinking they were kidnapped by ghosts?"

Sakura nodded, turning huge, tearful eyes on Kurogane, and he sighed.

"Look, it might just be illusion magic or something."

"Oh! I hadn't thought of that."

Illusion magic didn't sound as scary as ghosts, to her, and Sakura relaxed a little. Kurogane was glad to see that that held true for all of the Sakuras he'd met so far.

"We still don't know what happened. In order to find them, we'll need your help. Can you tell us everything weird you know about that theater?"

"Do you think the g-g-ghosts are _in_ the theater?" Sakura asked, tremulously.

"No," Kurogane lied. "Absolutely not."

"Yup!" said Mokona.

Kurogane glared at her again.

"But don't worry! Kurogane's gonna teach you the special ultimate Kurogane secret technique number 3- how to slay ghosts with your sword!"

Kuorgane seriously considered the merits of cutting Mokona into fine strips and mashing her into a paste, and continued to glare. Mokona smiled slyly in that way Fai did sometimes, utterly unrepentant.

And Sakura, of course, completely bought it. She clutched Mokona in tearful hope.

" _Really_? If it's something I can learn, then I want to! _Thank you, Kurogane-san!_ "

That seemed better than Sakura crying in fear of ghosts and feeling helpless, so Kurogane ignored the following peptalk and finished his dinner. As he collected their plates and returned to the kitchen to clean them, he tried not to notice the empty spaces all over the room.

***

Under the theater was a small cavern, lit by phosphorescent growth on its ceiling and walls. In it there was a stone slab, and on it lay a man, white as death, with black cables leeching out of his body and into a machine that fed on him. The machine made a soft stuttering sound, and the man was silent, too weak anymore to fight.

For the first time in years, the man was not alone; but his visitors were not awake, either.

***

As a member of the theater and resident of Gunpowder Country, Sakura knew a great deal about the history of her favorite place and its special significance to the festival of truth. She told them everything she could: how the man responsible for first creating the shield over their country had actually been a performer; how he did marvelous tricks with the help of the spirits, and showed the world that magic need not be feared; how the spirits, previously invisible to the people of the world, had been received first with fear and then with joy by the people, thanks to the efforts of this man; and how, unlike ghosts, spirits were creatures born of the world's essence, and always honest, even if they might not necessarily be friendly.

She was, therefore, afraid of ghosts because they were the lingering shards of the dead, and known to murder the living out of spite, which was plenty scary enough without also looking scary, too.

"Kurogane's got looking scary covered, don't worry." Mokona said.

Kurogane rolled his eyes and changed the subject.

"All right, but what happened to this guy? Was he involved with building _your_ theater?"

"Oh, no! But it was dedicated in honor of him. That's why we used to host the ceremony of protection. It hasn't been officially done for a few years. I guess the man who owns the theater didn't like it? Or, he said we _could_ do it, but only on our own time, so. But all our shows are scheduled during the theater's regular hours! It's hard to make time for the ceremony outside of that. I was meaning to do it, this week, actually, um, but I haven't had the time..."

"Wonder how the spirits feel about that," Kurogane muttered.

He glanced at the marble dragon. Its back was still open, the secret compartment spread like a broken-off wing. Had the ghost by the fountain known this would happen? Was she the one who'd stolen the others away?

"Hey, Princess."

This Sakura did not respond right away, and when she realized he meant _her_ , she laughed in embarrassment.

"O-oh, I guess you wouldn't know because you're...from somewhere else, but. I'm not really a princess! Those posters are to advertise the play, that's all."

"Is there any history of deaths at the theater?"

Though she shuddered with unease at the subject, Sakura shook her head, and explained.

"I don't think anybody's died in the theater, but the place that used to be there burned down. It was a school. This happened when I was really little, so I don't remember it very well, but. A few kids didn't make it, and one of the teachers disappeared."

"What caused the fire?"

"I don't know," Sakura said, apologetically. "I'm sorry, Kurogane-san."

Kurogane waved those words aside, and poked Mokona in the stomach with one finger.

"Hey, white thing. You guys couldn't see that ghost that talked to me, earlier, right?"

He ignored Sakura's fearful response, as Mokona confirmed his suspicions with a sorrowful shake of her head.

"Mm-mm. Why does Kurogane ask?"

"I wanna try talking to her again. D'you think you can keep this one safe while we're investigating?"

"You want me to go w-with you? A-are you sure?" Sakura chattered, though she seemed a little less frightened at the prospect if Mokona was going to somehow protect her from the ghosts.

"Of course! Mokona will keep Sakura safe, definitely."

That said, she hopped over onto Sakura's head, which had the added benefit of calming Sakura down a little bit. Whatever protection she might be able to offer was probably more of the emotional variety than the tangible, but Kurogane didn't feel like Sakura needed to know that. He stood up, making for the door of the inn room and motioning them to follow his lead.

"All right. Let's get back there as fast as possible. I don't like the thought of those two trapped somewhere on their own."

***

Fai and Syaoran awoke in a place they did not know, unable to see each other. Someone had chained them hand and foot, and sat them on either side of a boulder, their backs against its stone. Fai spoke first.

"Syaoran? Are you all right?"

"I'll manage." Syaoran sounded ragged, like each word was painful. "What about you, Fai-san?"

"I'm fine."

A tug or two revealed that their chains were linked by a length of rope that circled the boulder. The rope was taut, such that any motion Fai might make pulled on Syaoran's chains, and vice versa. Realizing this, Fai tried to straighten up, and ease the tension on their bindings. He couldn't tell if it made much difference.

It was dark in this strange place, but it wasn't silent. Nearby there was the humming sound of a machine, and someone or something breathing heavy as a runner at the end of a race. They were not alone. And though both of them could sense that faint presence, somewhere in the space beyond them, they couldn't tell who or what it was. For a short time, they waited to see what would happen.

Very little, as it turned out: the breathing sounded from outside of their reach, the machine made its clattering purr, and water dripped into a pool on the far side of the cave. None of what they could sense gave them any clues to where they'd been taken. The stranger didn't speak.

"Who is that, there?" Syaoran asked at last, impatience and anxiety getting the better of him.  

"I don't know, they aren't awake."

Fai strained against the metal bands that bound his hands, but was dismayed to discover he couldn't break them. Worse, his magic didn't come to him when he called it. The cuffs that covered his wrists had powerful runes carved into their bands. Fai supposed these were suppressing his and Syaoran's magic, both, to keep them from escaping while their captor was away.

Without his magic, he couldn't break free of the chains, nor slip them. He supposed he was very lucky, then, to be a vampire. Fai let his hands relax and his claws slide free, long and scissor-sharp. Somewhat awkwardly, he twisted about until he could lay them against the rope, and set about the business of sawing through that which bound them to the boulder. It was slow going, but Fai had waited far longer for less.

When the last thread frayed and split and the rope went slack, Fai sighed with relief, and stretched out his wrist as best his could.

"There we are. Now we can scoot about as we like, in here."

Syaoran's breathing was still a little too quick, a little too nervous. Ordinarily, Fai supposed he would have known right away what that meant, but for some reason right now it was difficult to think, difficult to process the information he was hearing. Even with the rope gone, it seemed quite monumental to even lift his chained hands.

"Fai-san, I can't move," said Syaoran, small and fearful, like he was seven years old all over again.

Ah, yes: Fai realized what was happening. He lay down on his side, and began to crawl around the boulder toward Syaoran. Words alone in the dark, with muddled senses and magic being sealed away, would not do what physical contact could. As he inchwormed his way across the muddy cavern floor, slow and steady, Fai said hopefully,

"Kuro-sama and Mokona will find us soon. It's going to be all right."

"But how do you _know_?"

Fai didn't know how to answer right away. Once, he might've had no answer at all; but as he dug his shoulder into the grime and pushed down with the heels of both hands, struggling along, he found that this time, he had the answer, and every confidence it was true.

"They won't give up on us. They love us. They won't let us be lost here. It's okay."

It wasn't much longer before he came in sight of Syaoran. It was easier to move a little more quickly, when he knew where he was trying to go. Heedless of the muck and grime on his chest and arms, Fai crawled neatly into place beside Syaoran, then sat up as if he'd been there the whole time. He elbowed Syaoran in silent greeting, and offered his best honest smile.

A very familiar and sad sound filled the dark for a while, and the weight of Fai's son leaned against his arm. He wished his hands were free, but he was glad he'd made it in time.  

Eventually, Syaoran said,

"I'm sorry. I hope you're right."

Fai understood the weight of what was said and what wasn't, and told him, "I don't mind. I hope so, too."

***

There was no sign of the ghost girl when they returned to the fountain. They questioned several people working nearby about it, and were able to confirm that sightings of a figure matching Kurogane's description did happen every few nights, though some said she took on different forms at different times, and others insisted she would curse anyone who looked at her. Thus armed with knowledge, Kurogane led the way back there, and for an hour tried to get the ghost's attention without success.

A little voice at the back of his mind said he should have known that that would happen, and time was wasting, and they had better get moving. Kurogane did his best to ignore it, and tamped down his panic. Sakura was hiding nearby, Mokona playing a word game with her to keep her from crying. He didn't need to make things worse by going wild with worry.

They were thoroughly discouraged, though, and without much in the way of ideas, till Sakura suggested they go to city hall. She theorized that they could probably, without getting into trouble, anyway, look up records of those who had died when the school burned down. Then they might have a name to link to the ghost, at least, which could help them find her.

Kurogane was tired, angry, and didn't feel particularly confident about having to comb through written records he couldn't really read, but he also didn't have any better ideas. So, he noted the hour, made them take a detour past a street vendor, and paid for breakfast. Sakura ate with abandon, Mokona didn't need to eat, and Kurogane ate until he felt more tired than hungry. Then he ushered them back onto the street, walking as fast as Sakura could pace him, and shortly they arrived at city hall.

It was boring inside, the records hall particularly stuffy, and Kurogane hated it. Sakura and Mokona were both able to read the local language, but were not sure they would know what the girl looked like if they saw a picture. Kurogane knew the ghost, of course, but the writing was gibberish. He felt useless, and would have preferred to catnap, if they hadn't needed his eyes on their research to narrow things down.

Gunpowder Country had very few laws that Kurogane worried about breaking. They made public their records of the city, its architecture and history, its populace and its rulership; they didn't mind any sort of talk or spiritual practice; and they didn't trust the people of White Flower country, or so he'd learned, nor any custom or trade from that place. The xenophobia worried him, a little. He didn't think a ghost was likely to care about where people were from, but he wasn't an expert on the subject, either.  

His mind continued to wander aimlessly as he waited for Sakura and Mokona to make headway on their frankly enormous task, and as minutes slipped into hours, Kurogane did end up dozing, after all. Dreams of a cold morning and an empty bed met his unease, and he had the sense of names, missing from his memory.

"Kurogane-san!" Sakura shouted, before she remembered that they were in a records room and probably supposed to remain quiet. He woke up in time to catch her catching her mistake, going red with embarrassment and whispering _sorry!!!_

Kurogane glanced about, but none of the people who worked here were apparently interested in this section of the building, luckily enough. Kurogane swallowed back a yawn and did his best to look like he hadn't been sleeping as he sat up a bit taller.

"What's up, Princess?"

Sakura was whispering now, almost too quiet to hear. He motioned her closer, straining to catch the words.

"Ah, um! I found a picture of the students that died that day! There was a memorial service and the flyer was put here in the records section, I think. It's kind of grainy, though, so I'm not sure if the picture's good enough. Sorry."

Sakura held up the flyer, offering it to him. From the sound of things, Mokona was doing just fine with her own search, sing-songing about her sorting process as she worked. There was a pile of books on the far end of the table almost as tall as Kurogane himself. He supposed Mokona must be behind that, since he couldn't see her anywhere.

"Don't apologize. It'll still be helpful to see."

Kurogane accepted the flyer, holding its thin, fragile paper along its outer edges with as light a grip as he could. There were twelve children whose pictures had been printed for the memorial service, and one adult Kurogane could only assume was the teacher. His mysterious contact's familiar face was listed fourth, serious in countenance.

"Yep. This is her."

Sakura excitedly took the flyer back, and then frowned, reading the name to him.

"It says she was an orphan. Li Meilin."

Kurogane cursed under his breath. If she had been an orphan, no wonder she lingered now; she'd had no family to mourn her.

"Anything else on there?"

"Uh...at the bottom it says that the bodies were burned beyond recognition when the school burnt down, so there's a prayer to the gods that they were carried swiftly to the next life, and didn't- um, didn't suffer for very long."

Sakura set the flyer down on the table, eyes misting with sympathetic tears. He didn't know if she'd have accepted anything more personal, but Kurogane offered her a supportive nod, and let her grieve, as she worked through what that meant. It gave him a curious sense of deja vu; like they were in that blasted hellscape called ‘Tokyo' all over again. He wasn't surprised, exactly, by how much she reminded him of the princess, but it did disconcert him a little.

It was easy, separated as they were, these days, to forget how strongly Sakura felt connection to others, even those long dead, even strangers. Kurogane envied and admired that about her.  

"You okay?"

Sakura shook her head, and sniffled a little.

"I know it happened a long time ago. There's not much I can do about it now!"

"Ah, well. Nothing wrong with wishing you could, either."

"Do you think they did suffer? Dying like that...it seems like it would be so scary. And they were so young when it happened…"

He took a deep breath in through his nose, and looked at Mokona's stack of books, feeling out the words before he spoke. But, words had never really been his strong suit. Kurogane shook his head, and tried to muddle through.

"I think whatever else happened, the prayers of those people reached them. And when you all built the theater and made the place into something new, I think it probably gave them peace."

He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to say, or the true thing, or whatever. But Sakura nodded, and wiped her eyes.

"You're kind, Kurogane-san."

"If you say so."

Sakura sniffled again, and Kurogane felt guilty that he didn't know how to do better to comfort her.

"Hey, if you need a break, maybe it would be a good idea to check with the front, see how much longer this place is open."

She was clearly relieved at the idea, and took the suggestion to heart, getting to her feet. As she walked out of the records room and down the hall, Kurogane pushed a pencil around on the table, trying to give her some privacy. At the far end of the table, Mokona suddenly shouted _Eureka!_ , then noisily resumed her work, tossing new books open atop the pile of the old until it was a whole head taller. Kurogane sighed. He could tell already he was going to be expected to put all of this shit away himself.

"What did you find, pork bun?"

There was a slight pause, and then Mokona leaped to the top of her pile, and again down to the table between them, carrying a stack of what appeared to be wanted posters.

"The connection!"

Kurogane frowned at the posters, pushing through them with one finger, and tried to make sense of it. None of the faces there looked familiar, but they did all look very similar to each other.

"What do these say?"

Mokona tapped a paw to the top poster, and excitedly donned a hat he hadn't known she was carrying. Knowing her, she might not have been, moments earlier.

"This first one is from this year! But they all say the same thing. This guy, he's been on a rampage! Except I don't think they realize it's all him, because each one is so far apart. This one is from ten years ago!"

Mokona slipped another poster out of the pile, placing it next to the top one, and continued to lay them out, one by one, till she had all ten in a pair of haphazard rows on the table.

"Each one is from ten years earlier than the last. But they're all exactly the same! And he's as old as the shield thing, or maybe even older!"

Kurogane was duly impressed by Mokona's detective work, and did his best to memorize the face before him.

"He must have some kind of powerful magic, then, right?"

"He _has_ to! Maybe it's what made Fai and Syaoran disappear!"

"So, hold on. What does this have to do with the fire?"

"Oh ho ho ho~! Mokona was hoping you would ask! Because..."

Mokona pointed to the flyer that Sakura had shown him earlier, and Kurogane looked it over in puzzlement, till he caught sight of the teacher who'd supposedly died alongside his students.

"It's the connection!!"

"It's the same guy," Kurogane muttered. An uneasy feeling twisted in his gut, and he rose to his feet, pacing around the table to try to shake out that excess energy.

"What Mokona wants to know is, what was that key? Why did the ghost have it?"

"Meilin," Kurogane corrected absent-mindedly. "Yeah, I'm not sure. Except...I mean, these kids supposedly all were burned to death, right?"

Mokona looked over Sakura's memorial flyer discovery, and confirmed it.

"Yup. It says they were burned really bad!"

"That doesn't add up, though. That ghost had a cut on her neck. She didn't have any burns at all."

He glanced up the hall, worried Sakura would come back and overhear them discussing their ghostly friend again. She was worked up and scared enough as it was. On the table, Mokona was mirroring Kurogane's pacing, her face as serious as it ever got.

"Why would he pretend to be a teacher?" Mokona mused. "If he lives so long and has so much magic, there's a lot of other stuff he could do. And some of these posters are from after then, too, so why did he pretend to be dead?"

It didn't quite add up, and it didn't give him any idea of how to find the guy, either. Frustrated, Kurogane directed his energy toward beginning to put away Mokona's mountain of research materials. She stayed on the table, trying to puzzle it out. They almost finished cleaning up before Sakura came back, wearing her best cheerful expression.

"Sorry I took so long! They said they'll be open till a couple hours after nightfall, so we should be fine. I'm actually kind of hungry, though, so I was wondering if maybe we could take a break?"

Kurogane reshelved the last of Mokona's books with a sigh. The table was still cluttered with wanted posters, but at least those were just kept in a big binder, since they weren't really considered equivalent to the rest of the room's contents.

"Yeah, it's fine. I should eat too, and then we should go back to the theater. I want to see if we can find any sign of that damn door."

Sakura didn't answer right away; she'd stopped still, staring down at the table in surprise at the most recent of the wanted posters.

"This is…"

She picked it up, bringing it closer as if the image might change at different angles, and then set it down very carefully, looking at Kurogane like she'd actually seen the ghost herself, this time.

"Why is there a wanted poster for Tsuchigumo-san?"

"You know who that guy is?"

Sakura nodded, and Kurogane bit back the urge to demand to know the guy's address. He took a steadying second to gather his wits, and asked instead,

"Where've you seen him?"

"Where have I- Kurogane-san, that's Tsuchigumo-san! He's our playwright, he lives in the theater!"

The theater. Kurogane clenched his hands into fists, and did his best to stay calm. It was getting more and more difficult, though, and he could feel the rage bleeding into his voice.

"He lives _in_ it?"

"Yes. There's a few rooms that the owner rents out to people, and Tsuchigumo-san has been living there as long as I've worked there."

Kurogane roared, _where is he, then?_

Then remembered that they were still in city hall, and also, that this was Sakura he was roaring at. He grit his teeth, and tried to find his center, and apologized.

"Sorry. ...sorry. Which room does he rent? What floor is it on?"

"It's on the first floor, I think? Only, he's been missing since the festival started! Nobody knows what happened to him. We filed a report, but the city guard hasn't found anything since then."

"Can you show me which room it is?"

Mokona dug her feet into Kurogane's shoulder. He lifted his metal hand to pat her, and she clung on with one tiny paw, hugging him as much to comfort Kurogane as herself. While he wasn't exactly sure what this Tsuchigumo guy meant to Sakura, he could tell that she was conflicted. If she didn't want to help them, knowing what they now suspected, then he didn't want to pressure her.

Sakura said, _Yes. Yes, I will_ , and Mokona cried out happily, leaping to Sakura's shoulder and hugging her ear.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsuchigumo's name is a reference to the mythological creatures in Japanese folklore.


	4. Chapter 4

When they returned to the theater, Kurogane was just about at the end of his capacity to remain calm. Sakura was as good as her word and more, showing them to the locked room that their missing playwright had been living in, and offering to ask around to see if she couldn't find the key to get them inside.

Kurogane considered the offer, and then decided,

"I'm not giving him the time. Stand back."

"Fwha?" Sakura said, not quite understanding his meaning.

"Oh~!" Mokona said, understanding exactly.

"This is faster," Kurogane explained, and then kicked down the door with a single, satisfying _crack!_ of wood crunching under his booted heel as the thing split neatly in two.

The splintered halves fell partially open under their own weight, and Kurogane pushed them further, tearing out the half not braced on hinges to get it out of his way. Mokona clapped excitedly, urging him on, and Sakura stared at the wreckage with the expression of one who had not, until this moment, fully been sure that Kurogane and Mokona were from another world.

She recovered, as he was casually tossing aside the last of the door's pitiful pieces, and exulted alongside Mokona with a determined gleam in her eyes.

" _Wow!_ Will you teach me how to do _that_ , Kurogane-san?!"

He huffed, but couldn't help tousling her hair. Luckily, Sakura didn't seem to mind.

"Maybe. Let's see what's in this place, first."

Tsuchigumo's room was a wasteland of bones hidden poorly, like someone who had no fear whatsoever of being caught. No literal skeletons, but he had photographs of every single child who'd died in the fire, and hundreds more plastered on the walls, like a gruesome altar to whatever horrors he'd committed over the years. There were enchanted stones piled on his desk beside weird-looking typing machine, and his sleeping arrangements had the musty scent of someone who never bothered to clean the bedding. The mess extended to his closet, which had an equivalent amount of clothing hung up as it did on the floor in grubby piles. The desk's chair was the only clean thing in the whole room, lovingly cared for, and it had a partially-written manuscript on its seat.

Most notable among all these things was a key on the desk, familiar now in its shape. Kurogane grabbed it without even thinking, holding the thing tight, and growled.

"Was that the key we had before?" Mokona asked, hugging her ears to her face with worry.

"Yeah. It's the same one."

"But it doesn't make any sense! How would the key be in here?"

"And," Kurogane added, "Where's the damn door?"

It was a question he didn't have an easy answer to, but Mokona was just as in the dark. She wailed,

"Mokona doesn't know! It didn't feel like a magic door, but it hasn't re-appeared. What if it's gone forever?!"

"Now that we've got this again, maybe it'll show up," Kurogane reasoned. There wasn't anything else here that looked of use, though. He turned to leave the filthy room behind, and accidentally bumped into Sakura, who was still staring in horror at all the pictures lining the walls. It wasn't too much of a collision, but she did stumble into the desk. This had the unexpected effect of jarring loose the locked, top drawer.

"Sorry," Kurogane grimaced.

"Oh, no! I'm sorry, I was looking at...I didn't notice." Sakura rubbed at her back with a wince, and then looked closer at the drawer she'd bumped open. "What's this?"

"What's what?"

She reached into the drawer, and pulled out a leatherbound book in answer. It was unmarked on its covers, and looked very old, and somewhat fragile. Whatever else might be the case, though, the thing had seen recent use: there wasn't a speck of dust on it.

"Tsuchigumo-san writes plays, after all. Maybe he plans them out in here?"

Somehow, Kurogane doubted very much that such a book would be so innocent.

"Let's find out."

It was a journal; and as the three of them leaned in to look it over, Mokona read it aloud. Sakura flipped the pages for her, reading along in worried silence.

" _I've finally done it._ " Mokona stopped thoughtfully. "Done what? Do you think there's another journal before this one?"

"Who knows?" Kurogane said. "Keep reading."

Mokona cleared her throat, and did so.

 _"He must have thought his spirits would protect him, so he didn't put up much of a fight. But I'll have the last laugh; I can siphon everything I need from him, and none the wiser. Immortality is wasted on someone so soft. He'd rather sleep his life away anyway. I am doing him a favor._ "

"M-maybe it's a script for a play," Sakura said, in the tone of someone who knows they are lying to themselves.

"Flip to the last page," Kurogane said, already sick of this Tsuchigumo guy.

When Sakura did, Mokona began reading anew.

" _This raises so many questions! How did they find their way to me, and what far-off land did they hail from? Were they drawn to me? Will there be more? I suppose I'll have time enough to ask them as I prepare my new finds. But the resemblance is uncanny between this new man and him, and I confess, I feel like the gods themselves must be playing a joke on me. Surely one cannot be this lucky! Surely not… I'll have to be careful, I don't want any interruptions. Building another machine is simple, once I have the parts. I'll just use the old one, for now. Once I'm sure it works on our new friend, I'll have all the time in the world to make another. All that remains is to decide who to drain first, the man or the boy._ "

Mokona shivered, and Kurogane couldn't blame her. He didn't like the sound of any of that.

"That's where it stops. But...doesn't it sound like he's talking about Fai and Syaoran? Mokona isn't just imagining things, right?"

"It sounds like that to me, too," Kurogane agreed. "Is there anything in there talking about where he's keeping them?"

"Like a map?"

Kurogane suspected that a map with convenient directions was, probably, too much to ask for; he didn't say so aloud, letting Sakura flip through the journal to see what little information she could find. She bit her lip as she read, frowning deeply.

"It seems like he doesn't write very often. Each entry is from a different year, but always- always during the Festival of Truth."

"So, no map, just a lot of gloating."

Nodding glumly, Sakura did due diligence, checking each page until she reached the beginning of the book again.

"He never talks about how to get there, just that it's a ‘sanctum'. He did mention that key, a few times."

"But that's no good! The door disappeared, already!" Mokona moaned in despair.

They didn't have time, though, to be fearful, or give up. Kurogane tried to keep Sakura and Mokona both from panicking; it was easier than trying to tell _himself_ that everything was going to turn out fine.

"It was here before, we'll find it again." He caught Mokona's eye and nodded, hoping she'd draw some comfort from the gesture. She reciprocated, then noisily blew her nose with a handkerchief she'd pulled out of the ether.

"Yeah! We can't give up! Syaoran and Fai are counting on us."

Kurogane smiled, just a hair. Turning back to Sakura, he asked, "What'd he say about it, anyway? The stuff about the key."

She fumbled with the journal, almost dropping it a moment before she got a better grip.

"Let me find it again. Um, let's see...Ah, here it is. It's actually from earlier in the last entry. _I don't know how they found the spare key. All those years ago, he must have hidden it. The glamour was dispelled, but not for very long. I've captured the intruders, and happily, their stolen key. Now I needn't worry about any future unexpected guests._ "

She wrinkled her nose, closing the journal as if to shut it up, even though she'd been the one reading it aloud.

"I guess he's pretty confident nobody is going to find this."

Sakura's voice was dripping with such disdain that Kurogane laughed.

"He's gotten away with it for a hundred years, of course he's cocky."

"That's so _horrible_ , though!"

Sparing another glance around the enshrined pictures of Tsuchigumo's victims, Kurogane couldn't help but agree. He wasn't about to let Fai and Syaoran join them.

"We're gonna make sure that changes. Don't worry."

"Yeah! He's not going to hurt anybody else anymore!" Mokona said vehemently.

Sakura put the journal back in the desk, and closed her eyes, balling up her hands into fists. He knew that look, knew that she wanted to see this through, and didn't try to tell her to go home. She wouldn't have listened if he'd tried, anyway.

When Sakura had steeled herself, she looked to Kurogane for direction. He held the key out to her, and followed her lead.

"Let's go find that door."

***

Somehow, as the hours passed and they sat there, curled up in the dark, dizzy, bound and sore, they'd both fallen asleep again. When Fai woke, it was to a man's twisted face and Syaoran's terrified voice, calling his name. The face of their enemy, as it turned out, was one he didn't know. That seemed odd. Why, if he didn't know them, had he taken them prisoner?

Fai felt a bit slow on the uptake, because he was sure he ought to be scared, too, but he couldn't imagine why.

"What are you doing to him? _Fai-san!_ Wake up! You have to fight it!"

"Quiet, you damn brat!"

He perceived, distantly, the snap of flesh on flesh, but couldn't see anything except the stranger's face, floating out and then into view. His hands were still bound, and little biting pinpricks dug into his fingertips and toes. It made him nauseous. Fai closed his eyes, and turned away.

When he opened them again, he was sure he was dreaming, because the face he saw was his own, haggard and skeletal, eyes wide and expression hopeless. The other-him croaked weakly, but seemed unable to speak. Fai wanted to reach out and touch him, test him, see if he was real. It made his head spin to think that that might be a possibility.

"Now, where were we?" said the stranger, returning to the stone slab and grabbing Fai's face with oil-stained fingers. He positioned Fai's head facing forward, and dug a needle-sharp sting into Fai's temples, one on each side.

The magic, the lifeblood of him that had sustained Fai for such a very long time, began draining out of him, so fast he felt faint. He could hear a fluttering, as if a gust of wind was spinning through an unattended book, and the stranger was laughing. He didn't like the stranger, or his laugh, or this feeling.

He didn't like how quiet Syaoran was, either.

It was difficult to think, to be certain, and almost exhausting to speak, but Fai tried anyway, forcing the words up and out of his chest like his life depended on it. Maybe it did, he wasn't sure.

"What are you doing to us?"

The stranger sneered, and pulled out a very sharp-looking knife in answer. Fai closed his mouth quickly. He might not be feeling quite himself, at the moment, but he had the sense not to want anyone to get hurt.

"I'm trading up," said the stranger with a harsh little laugh, eyeing the blade and then looking out into the dark at Syaoran. "You'll be my new batteries, both of you. And old Yui there...well, I'm sure he'd like some peace, after all these years. Wouldn't you, Yui?"

Fai bit his tongue, and held his breath. The other him really was _him_ then, wasn't he? This was a situation for which Fai was entirely unprepared. He felt as though he ought to have assumed it would happen eventually, but supposed he couldn't have anticipated the grim circumstances of their meeting, either. It was a struggle, trying to say the right things with magical current snapping his senses in and out of focus, but Fai tried anyway. All three of their lives depended on it; Syaoran had been hurt, and the other-him seemed nonresponsive. Fai didn't have the luxury to fumble this, not now.

"There's no need to hurry, is there?" he stammered, struggling to string the words together in a logical chain. "Just- just one of us should be enough, surely?" 

The stranger slammed a fist into the stone by Fai's head, and he jumped reflexively, tugging on the wires by accident. It made the magical current spike and shudder, and the world seemed to sway and shift, color bleeding out of his vision a moment while blood roared in his ears. Fai gulped for air, fighting with everything he had not to faint dead away.

"Didn't ask your opinion."

Fai breathed a shaky _oh, I see_ and flinched at the cold kiss of the blade touching his cheek. The stranger scowled down at him, oozing disappointment. Given everything that was happening at the moment, combined with the threats and all, though, Fai didn't particularly care what the stranger thought of him.

"Besides," the stranger muttered, "it'd be a mercy, sending him to the next life."

Before Fai could figure out a viable argument for why there was no need to kill anyone, the other-him spoke, diverting the stranger's attention.

"I can't, Tsu-chan. Not as long as you're here."

This Yui's voice was reedy and thin, didn't sound anything like Fai's, and yet was also everything the same as him, so much that it made him feel out of his body, a bit. Unconsciousness loomed a little closer, and Fai reeled, blinking hard to stave it off. At first, the stranger's face twisted in fear and went white with shock; but then he seemed to remember himself, and his position in the room, and the power he had over them, and he turned red with fury.

"Oh, _can't_ you?" The stranger lifted his knife, poised to stab down into Yui's throat and put an end to the conversation. 

But then a funny thing happened: there was a ringing sound, and then a thud, and another, and the third thud was mixed with the sound of wood cracking under pressure. The stranger spun about, seething with rage, just in time for the biggest surprise of all, as the door at the top of the stairs swung open, revealing Kurogane, Mokona, and the spitting image of Sakura.

Fai squinted at that final detail, and wondered if he wasn't having a dream, after all.

"You- _you!_ " The stranger tried to straighten his clothes, hiding the knife behind his back. "How dare you trespass here! This room is off-limits to the general public!"

There was a heavy thump-thump-thump of Kurogane and Sakura descending wooden stairs, and Fai wondered where they were, in relation to the boulder and this stone slab he'd been laid out on. Syaoran was still distressingly silent, and the other-him...well, maybe he wouldn't think about that, just now.

"Say that to my face, you piece of shit," Kurogane growled.

Fai smiled a little, and let his eyes close. It was enough to hear the sound of ginryuu, sliding from its sheath. It was no contest, that fight; the next sound after was the surprised gurgle of the stranger, realizing he'd lost.

Light hands tapped his face, and Fai did his best to look up and see who it was. Sakura was there, peering down at him with curiosity, but no recognition. She seemed to be trying very hard not to see whatever it was that Kurogane was doing, on the other side of the room.

"Are you all right? I don't know how to get you free, but I'm afraid to move anybody else."

Fai squinted in the dimness, trying to discern who was really there. Maybe he _wasn't_ having a dream, but it certainly couldn't have been Sakura, now, could it? He couldn't seem to finish that thought, though he kept looping back and trying, certain that it was important to do so. If she wasn't Sakura, she must be someone else whose face he was perceiving wrong. Only, what if she wasn't? So perhaps he was really talking- no, it couldn't be Sakura, so it must be someone-

"Wires," Fai rasped. It had to be the wires making his thoughts all jumbled like that, and he could barely speak, at the moment, besides. He'd have said a lot more if he could, but even _please_ was lost somewhere between his impulse to speak and the command reaching his lips. And he was still hung up on the same loop: she wasn't Sakura, probably, but what if she-?

Luckily, the girl acted, not waiting for him to find a more coherent request. She start by pulling out the long, surprisingly sharp needles that had been pressed into his temples, and freed him from the worst of the magic-draining current. It felt like it ought to have been painful, having them pulled out, but mostly it eased the pressure on his skull, and Fai couldn't help a gasp of surprise as they broke apart. With a final little spike of energy, the circuit running through him was broken.

The effect was instantaneous; Fai lurched up, trying to sit, and with her support was able to do so, albeit awkwardly. It took him a few shaky breaths before he had enough equilibrium to balance himself there without her support. When he was able, though, she quickly moved to take care of the rest of the wires, pulling each one free from his fingers, then waiting a moment while he adjusted again. Finally, she moved down the slab, parallel with his feet, and pulled out the wires that were jammed into his toes. With each disconnect, Fai felt a little less confused, a little more aware, until the only thing still binding him was the pair of cuffs that had been locked around his wrists. The internal state of his magic and his thoughts was still something of a cacophony, but he felt reasonably confident the effect would fade as he had more time apart from the terrible machine.

Beside him, his mirror-image was laying completely unbound, though 'Yui' seemed barely cognizant. Fai looked over that fragile, rail-thin form and felt a guilty sense of gratitude that this wasn't to be his future. Even just a taste of what 'Yui' must have endured was bad enough. That infinite recursion of thought, that scrambling fractalization of the mind, felt worse than lying in isolation for an eon, surrounded by the dead. Fai knew what it was like, being unable to die and unable to live. He didn't want to know what it felt like to add _unable to think_ to the experience. He'd felt at wit's end just trying to gauge if he was really seeing-

Wait.

 _Sakura_. He stared, though he didn't mean to, and felt a little like he was seeing a ghost. Almost, Fai thought he might have to lay down again; but he could accept what he saw, once he had a little time to smooth things out, mentally. It really was more of not-Sakura, wasn't it? Just like this was 'him' but not-him, by his side, Fai supposed. Everything felt a touch surreal at the moment. Fai did his level best to take it in stride.

"You must be with Kurogane-san and Mokona," Sakura said to him, looking unsure if she was right.

Fai etched a wobbly bow from his seat on the slab, and almost fell over. As she righted him, he laughed in dismay at his own clumsiness.

"Fai D. Fluorite, at your service. Though I think it's more that you've been at mine. Thank you for that, Princess."

The title didn't seem to sit well with Sakura, though Fai couldn't imagine why. Maybe in this world she wasn't royalty. Rather than explain her reaction, Sakura flushed and stomped her foot, almost as if she thought he was making fun of her. Then she shook her head, and said,

"You don't have to thank me. I wouldn't have known to help, if Kurogane-san and Mokona hadn't told me about what was happening."

"You still did help me, though," Fai said warmly. "Why should it matter how you happened to become involved?"

By the way she fidgeted and fussed over answering, Fai could tell she'd already been thinking on the subject for a while. Given the aura on her and their shared soul, he wouldn't have been surprised if this Gunpowder Country Sakura was blessed with the luck of the gods, too. It was only natural, he supposed, that she should question those powers, and the strange opportunities that tended to fall into her lap. 

"It's just that I don't feel like me being here, and helping you, is a coincidence. All of this feels like it was destined. Like I was drawn here, by something, for some purpose."

Fai supposed, if he considered that there was a Sakura in this world, and a Yui, just like him, that coincidence did seem highly improbable, even if it might be statistically possible. But destiny was something he'd never much cared for, so he pretended not to know anything more about it out of spite. Instead, he gave Sakura his best, most distracting smile.

"That really is amazing, isn't it? It's lucky you all met."

He might've said more, but Mokona hopped up at that moment, and Kurogane followed, with Syaoran cradled in his arms, unconscious but relatively unharmed.

"Fai!!"

"Mokona!" Fai answered warmly. He wiggled his fingers in greeting, then winced, surprised to find them still bleeding, a bit. "Ah! Ow. That machine of his was awfully unpleasant."

Kurogane rumbled with displeasure, glaring off into a dark corner of the room as if he wished he could slay their enemy a second time.

"Oh no! Does it hurt very badly? Will Fai be okay?" Mokona worried, leaping up to his knee.

"I think, as long as we get out of here and go somewhere where we can rest, I'll be just fine. I'm more worried about Syaoran."

"Yeah," Kurogane agreed, and nodded to Sakura to help Fai stand from the table. "What about him? ...He's you, isn't he? This world's version of you."

Yui, for his part, seemed to still be conscious, if not especially aware. Without the stranger to react to, he had gone quiet, staring off into space with the empty focus of someone not really able to be _present_ for the moment. Fai could all too easily relate.

"He needs to be taken out of here too. I have no idea what sort of place would be safe, though. Maybe Sakura knows?"

Sakura brightened, puffing out her chest, and looked pleased that they were willing to rely on her.

"Leave it to me! I know just the person!"

***

Sakura's mother was a doctor, it turned out. She treated their aches and pains, helped unlock the runed chains that they'd been bound with, and took Yui to one of her sickbeds. There, she helped him lay down and rest a while, promising that he was welcome to stay as long as he needed to recover.

There was some debate about whether Sakura could go with the others as they left, but ultimately, she'd made the mistake of involving her mother already, and was kept behind as they returned to the inn. She waved them off and pulled Kurogane aside to thank him for everything, and Fai was still drifting a bit, so he hardly noticed when Syaoran woke, until Syaoran said his name, again.

"Fai-san?"

He looked up, and was happy to see that the swelling of the bruise over Syaoran's eye had gone down significantly, once Nadeshiko applied her poultice. Syaoran sat up, looking around in confusion, and Fai offered him a hand to hold as he got his bearings.

"We're all right. Kuro-sama and Mokona came to our rescue."

"And a Sakura, too!"

Fai laughed, and nodded. Mokona carried a glass of water that had been set on the table over to Syaoran, offering it to him. He accepted with a muted _thank you,_ and drank the whole glass before he was ready to talk more.

"That man...he didn't get away, did he?"

"No," Fai said, and Syaoran sagged with relief.

"You were right, then," he said, smiling. It was nice, Fai thought, to be right once in a while.

After tousling Sakura's hair and bidding her a suspiciously friendly farewell, Kurogane returned to the rest of them, and Fai got to his feet. They supported Syaoran between the two of them, and walked out into the fresh air, just in time to appreciate the sunset. The sickly haze that had hung over the city from the moment they'd arrived seemed thinner, now, and Fai caught the motions of a few spirits, here and there, dancing about in the shadows along the street.

"We should try that ritual again, now that man is gone," Fai said, and Syaoran brightened.

"Yes! If you all wouldn't mind, I'd like that very much!"

Delighted, Fai looked to Kurogane, even as Mokona chimed in, too.

"Ah, but it's not up to us, is it? Kuro-sama owns the statue, so he gets the final say~"

There was something wonderful about the face that Kurogane made when he realized he was being teased; he made it now, and flushed a bit, and Fai wondered if it would be going too far, to mention ginryuu again.

"I don't mind," Kurogane said stiffly, and gave Fai a long, heated look.

Fai stared back a moment, utterly guileless, and then finally caught on.

"Oh. ....... _Oh_!" He cleared his throat. "Of course. I haven't the faintest why I thought you'd be opposed, Kuro-sama."

"Well, I'm not," Kurogane repeated, aggrieved. "But we ought to get something good to drink before we settle in for the night."

"Maybe Mokona has something for the occasion!" Fai said.

Kurogane shook his head.

"Wouldn't do to piss off the kid, would it? I'll buy us something on the way there."

"Oh, I _see!_ " Fai shared a laugh with Mokona, who was perched atop Syaoran's head. "He'll buy us something on the way there!"

"What a gentleman!" Mokona declared.

" _Such_ a gentleman," Fai agreed.

Unfazed, Kurogane waved off the compliments, and pointed out the leading edge of the bazaar, ahead.

"Pick out whatever, just don't get lost. We did that enough already."

***

They performed the ritual again, exactly as before: only this time, the marble dragon leapt out of Kurogane's hands and danced around the room, singing excitedly. It stopped near Syaoran, greeting him with glee, and then froze, staring at Fai.

"Friend-Yui?" said the dragon, tremulous, with joy that tumbled over into sadness."You're back? You—everyone thought you must have passed on to the next life!"

Fai seemed to flinch at the sound of that name, so long cast off it didn't feel like his, anymore. But he answered, crouching down to the dragon, and scratching it gently behind its horns. The dragon let out a happy trill, and curled up into his fingers.

"I am, and I'm not, oddly enough. But I do have news of your friend, little one. He was very sick; he is going to get better."

That alone would have counted, it seemed, for the purpose of the ritual; but once he'd introduced the dragon to Syaoran, it latched onto Syaoran's excitement, and they traded all manner of secrets as the night rolled by. Beyond that first interaction, Fai hung back, watching the exchange but not a part of it, and shared the bottle with Kurogane, who was doing the same.

"I was worried," Fai admitted, sometime after the darkest part of the night, when only the two of them were still awake, anymore. Somehow, they'd moved closer over the hours, till Kurogane was near enough now that Fai could have easily pulled him into an embrace.

Instead, he took another sip of their nearly-stale wine.

"Yeah?" Kurogane said. He sounded barely conscious, himself. Surely it didn't help that Syaoran and the marble dragon were snoring in the corner, now, creating a soothing background of noise.

"Mmm. Not that you wouldn't come," Fai said, looking at his hands, and tracing a finger along the bottle. "Just…worried."

He didn't have it in him, even this relaxed, to admit that he'd been afraid: afraid that Kurogane would find him already dead, and be left without him. It felt too selfish to say out loud, even egotistical. Fai was certain that Kurogane had had the worse worry, and didn't want Kurogane to think poorly of him, either.

But, Kurogane seemed quite aware of what had been left hanging there. And he answered by wrapping his arms around Fai, steel and flesh.

"I'm glad you're here, mage," Kurogane said, in a voice as soft as a kiss.

Fai smiled, and looped his arm around Kurogane's waist, which was the only part of Kurogane he could reach from his current position without accidentally tickling him. Someday, when they had time and Fai was feeling up to it, he wanted to sit down and write all of the things that were wonderful about Kurogane; how thoughtful and considerate, and stubborn and crude, and gentle Kurogane could be.

For now, he accepted the offer Kurogane had made, and freely told the dark of their little fishboned room:

"I'm glad I'm here, too."

***

The travelers left town much as they'd arrived, and they traveled at night, when the stars were lit with fireworks. They walked together in a cluster, black and gold and hope and magic, and like a fairytale, they stepped out of sight for just an instant, then were gone.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading through this story, and I really hope you enjoy it! (Especially you, Mythicalheartbeat! I don't know you very well but I wanted to my best to give you a nice, complete story.) 
> 
> Notes about the story: From the start I wanted to try to do a vignette about a world post-TRC but maybe a little pre-NWC, and then a little bird told me that'd be the preference of the giftee. I don't have a lot of experience writing mysteries, so I hope the logic of how and why things turn out the way they do makes sense. I liked letting some things be left to the imagination, off to the side or out of panel, sort of mimicking the style of the manga in the telling. I hope that works for other people. In the end, I just wanted to be sure we had a nice, happy send-off at the end!
> 
> Happy holidays!


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